An Empty House
by Ms. Chaos
Summary: "Sherlock ran faster at John's shout, seeing the red laser dot a second later. He violently flinched at the sound of the gunshot. His heart skipped a beat at the slumped, still figure of John Watson." RE-POST. Takes place three years after The Reichenbach Fall. Sherlock is back!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This is a re-write and a re-post but it's actually been awhile so I doubt you guys even remember this little fic. But I just decided to rewrite it especially now since my best friend whom I managed to turn into a member of the CumberCollective after making her watch "A Scandal In Belgravia" with me last summer and has become my beta reader so she's helping me "clean house" with this fic and I hope it will be shiny and better than the last time. OK, enough of me blabbing. On to the story!

Credit for the proof reading goes to my very talented, best friend Robin. She's the one who is helping me through this so you can say we both wrote this together. lol Oh, I am an american and I have never been to London so any facts or places in this fic that are in any way wrong, please forgive me and I hope that it doesn't take you out of the story.

**Disclaimer: **Hah! As if I own them.

* * *

_The floor boards creaked so loudly throughout the flat as he stepped through the door. He stood there for a moment in the middle of the sitting room, taking in the life that used to occupied it. Moments that they had once shared._

_His bruised and bloody knuckled hands squeezed into tight fists, shaking with anger as he looked around. His eyes filled with tears that would not fall. He breathed deeply through his nose as the grief swelled up inside him._

_This life was gone._

_It was now just an empty house. _

* * *

No one really gives any attention to a grubby, dirty man of the street. There are 150,000 homeless people living on the streets of London so what was one more walking into the clinic that day in Kensington.

John walked towards his office, bumping into one of those homeless people on the way. He quickly apologized to the unkempt, ginger haired man, getting only a quiet grunt in response. The clinic waiting room looked crowded with people. A sign that meant that today was a busy day. The weekends are usually the busiest but that is the way John likes it. He likes busy. He doesn't like to slow down and when he does, he starts to think too much. Soon after he settled himself in his office, he asked the receptionist to bring n his first patient to the exam room. He begins the same routine he's gone through everyday for the last three years. The same old Friday that never changes.

Oh, how wrong he was.

John stifled a yawn as he looked over the chart of his next patient of the day before going off to meet his wife for lunch. John smiled to himself at the thought of Mary as he glanced at the gold wedding band on his finger. Sometimes he still couldn't believe he got so lucky. Mary had saved him after Sherlock's suicide. She had been there for him ever since Jeanette dumped at the Christmas party. Mary had only met Sherlock once briefly but of course, he deduced Mary as a nurse and boring, and quickly forgot about her. But to John she made a lasting impression when he bumped into her on the way to see Molly at the morgue at St. Bart's with Sherlock on a case. He had been smitten ever since.

John shook himself out of that memory. Time to go to work. He sighed tiredly and walked into the room where his patient stood waiting.

"Hello, Mrs. Sigerson." John smile's froze as he looked at a tall, red-haired man standing before him, not a 75-year-old woman with a bunion problem.

"You're not Mrs. Sigerson."

"No, I'm not." The red-haired man said, hoarsely. "I convinced the old woman to switches places with me. I got a nasty cough I've had for 2 weeks."

John took in the man's appearance and realized that this was the same man he bumped into on the way in this morning. Judging by the man's disheveled looking clothes, the way he hung his head low, and his cough; he had lived on the streets for sometimes. John couldn't help but feel a pang of pity.

"You need to set up an appointment." John admonished. "You can't come in here taking other people's appointment time."

The homeless man simply nodded, shifting his feet awkwardly as he stood. John let out a sigh.

"You say you've had a bad cough?"

"Can't seem to shake it off." the man rasped. "Been hard to catch me breath."

"Okay, well, take a seat and I'll take your temperature and listen to your chest."

John watched as the man shuffled to the exam chair, almost carefully walking as if it pained him to put any weight on his foot._ 'A sprained ankle'_, he thought.

"How long have you had a problem with your foot?" John asked as he took the red-haired man's temperature.

"Two days." he replied once the thermometer was out of his mouth, "Tripped and fell."

John eyed the man carefully, "You sure? You didn't hurt yourself in a fight?"

Living on the streets was a dangerous way to live. If you can call it living. Fights broke out all the time over territory and spaces. Most don't bother going into a clinic or hospitals for injuries that resulted into a fight to avoid from going to jail. But the man merely nodded and grunted in reply.

"Alright, I'll take a look at it as well." said John. "Well, I don't think you have pneumonia and you don't have a temperature so it's possible that you just have a chest cold."

John turned away to grab a pen and pad from a drawer, "I'll write you prescription for it and maybe a mild painkiller for your foot if you've sprained it then it needs to have a wrap. But if it's broken then you'll have to..."

He had only turned away for a second and looked back to find that the red-haired homeless man had vanished and in his place was his friend, long dead these past three years, Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

_'That certainly wasn't the welcome I was expecting.'_ Sherlock thought to himself as he rubbed the left side of his face, gingerly. He had hoped to surprise John when he walked into the clinic and revealed himself, which given by the throbbing jaw from John's right hook, he definitely had accomplished that. He couldn't resist but to bow with such flourish when John turned back to face him after he had peeled off his filthy brown coat and red wig that hid his dark curls. The gentle smile on John's face had completely melted into a look of utter shock. The physical appearance of his long dead friend wasn't enough until Sherlock spoke.

"Hello, John." Sherlock's eyes twinkled mischievously. John visibly flinched at the sound of his voice. His only response as his eyes glazed over was a whisper of Sherlock's name in disbelief. His knees soon gave out from under him.

The room looked blurry and the lights were too bright but John's vision came back into focus as fingers tapped gently against the side of his face and a familiar voice telling him to breathe. The face of Sherlock Holmes stared back at him. He almost passed out again.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked as they stood on wobbly feet. "I know I owe you an..."

The punch had come out of nowhere. Red, hot pain blossomed across the side of Sherlock's face that almost brought him to his knees. He blinked back the darkness that started to creep up in from the pain. He groaned loudly, standing up and looked at John.

"I probably deserve that..."

Once again, he couldn't say anything further. He was too shocked and found himself in the grips of John's fierce hug that he just stood completely still, his arms hung at his side, unsure what to do next. All he could do was awkwardly pat John's back, trying to comfort him. He wasn't sure if it was working.

"You bastard." Sherlock heard John say into his shoulder. John released him and looked at him square in the eye.

"You bloody bastard!" exclaimed John, giving Sherlock a slight shove. He stared at Sherlock with wide eyes.

"I know I owe you a very long explanation John, but now is not the time."

"What? No, no." John shook his head vehemently, "You tell me everything. Explain now!"

"I can't."

"I want to know where you've been."

"There is no time."

"I want to know! It's been-"

"I don't have time to-"

"Three years, Sherlock!" John shouted, silencing his friend. "Three years of believing you were dead. We buried you! I stood at your grave and I..." John's voice cracked, holding back tears, "I had to deal with the press who followed me everywhere I went and the lies the printed out day after day since you were dead. You can't just come in here, show your magic trick, and just expect that I would suddenly jump at your call after all this time!"

Sherlock silently debated to himself of what to say. Moran was out there, planning his next move. He couldn't afford to waste anymore time but John was right. He decided right there to give him at least the short version.

"I have tried to track down Col. Sebastian Moran for the past three years. He's come back here to London."

"Who?"

"Sebastian Moran. He's Moriarty's lieutenant. A military sniper man. One of the best in the world. Also, the second dangerous man after Moriarty. You've read about the Ronald Adair murder, right?"

"Yeah. You think it was this Moran guy?"

"It's his signature. I've tried to track down Moran all this time. I've been everywhere. Germany, China, America, looking for all Moriarty's webs of network. With Mycroft's help."

"What?" John said in surprise. "Mycroft knew?"

Sherlock went on speaking as if he didn't hear John.

"Moran is in charge of them all since Moriarty killed himself. I have been so close. _So_ close of getting him but every time I do, I run into his men. I know he's here. I know it and I'm not going to stop now."

John stood silent. He watched as desperation flashed in his friend's eyes, briefly. He could see how the mission to find Moran took its toll on Sherlock. New scars flecked across his pale, white hands, his hair was a bit longer with subtle hints of gray starting to show around his temples. His eyes looked weary and tired highlighted by the dark circles underneath them. He still shuffled his right foot as he pace around the room. The past three years had not been kind to Sherlock.

"I am so close to finishing this, John. After all this is over I promise you that I will tell you everything but now all I'm asking you is for you to please trust me."

"Trust you?" said John in exasperation. "Really? You want me to trust you after all this? After three years of lying to me, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, the people who actually care about you, who could have helped you. You... you just suddenly show up and say, 'hey, surprise! I'm not dead! Let's go on a case like nothing has happened.' Like a day has not gone by where we didn't mourn you!"

"This is more than just a case to me!" Sherlock bellowed, this time silencing John. "This is not a simple murder or a robbery that Lestrade had me look into. This is three years of tracking and stopping all Moriarty's power. It didn't just end with his death. It went on with Moran who continued what Moriarty was doing. It was never going to stop and you all were in danger!"

John stood silent, not knowing what to say.

Sherlock quietly drew in a breath. "All this goes back to the beginning. I know I'm asking a lot from you now but I need you. I need you to help me end this once and for all. I... need your help. Please."

John didn't know what to say. He has so many questions running through his head. All this was happening so fast. He felt confused, angry, and to tell the truth, a little scared. Everything has changed now. He has a wife now. A wife waiting for him now at their favorite café they go to every lunch break. He can't just drop everything and go on a job, a dangerous one by the sound of it, like nothing's changed now that Sherlock has come back. Can he? He quickly reached to a decision and took a deep breath.

"What do you need me to do?"

Sherlock's lips slipped into a smirk.

The game was on.

* * *

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **_I am SO sorry for the long update. I haven't forgotten or abandoned this story. I was just having issues writing it and had to rewrite everything and there was issues with my beta, blah blah. It doesn't matter. It's all fixed. I just hope that you guys are still reading this. I promise you an interesting and hopefully suspenseful kind of story that would leave you gasping. :D Anyway, enjoy the second chapter. Please don't be shy to leave a review. :)_

_Thanks to my best friend Robin for dealing with me and this story. :P_

* * *

"Where should we meet? Baker Street?" John asked, watching Sherlock disappear back into his disguise.

"No. " he replied curtly, "Not right away. It would be too obvious. I must remain unknown. Moran has Moriarty's men at his disposal. If he's back in London there's no doubt that they'll be near by."

"Right." John nodded, still feeling like he was in a daze. He never had imagined this would be how he day would turn out.

"Once you leave work, act like nothing has happened. " Sherlock said, putting on his red wig back on.

"Yeah like that's gonna be easy."

"It will have to be unless you want you and your wife killed."

"Wait, how do you know I have a wife?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You've put on weight since I saw you last but trying to lose it judging by the smell of a weight loss shake on your breath and the stain on your tie. A ridiculously horrible tie that no doubt your wife picked out for you which you still wear anyway to make her happy. There's also the most obvious fact. Your wedding ring."

John glanced down at his left hand and chuckled softly. Some thing's never change. A sudden thought came to him. Oh, God, Mary.

"What do I tell her? Should I tell her the truth?"

"I wouldn't worry about her. "Sherlock said quickly.

"What? But she's-"

"Tell her what you want, I don't care. What I need is your head in this game. "

"Now, it's a game."

"Yes, a game that won't stop until we bring Moran down." Sherlock looked down at his watch and groaned. " I don't have much time to explain now. We've spent too much time in here. It will look suspicious. Alright, go to lunch with your wife, act like nothing has happened. I will meet you there and explain to you what we'll do. "

Sherlock grabbed hold of the exam room door and within seconds, he was no longer Sherlock but the red-haired homeless man. But in a very typical Sherlockian fashion, he exited through the door with a swish of his ragged coat.

**_3 days earlier._**

_He thought about this long and hard. _

_He knew as soon as he took the first step towards his plan that there would be no turning back. The people involved would be hurt. His friend would be in danger._

_Friend._

_A word that he had never given much thought, let alone give it much importance, until now._

_Friendship was a waste of space. It took up room in his mind and distracted from the important things. It distorts and paints an unclear view in deductions and plans such as the one he has now. Especially now when he had finally got a clue on Sebastian Moran's location which was in London. _

_John had been with Sherlock since first learning about Moriarty. It seemed logical to Sherlock to have John with him when he finally ends this wild Moran goose chase, putting an end to Moriarty's web. John deserved an explanation and be spared of his pain after three long years. _

_Sherlock had been in London for three days after learning about the death Ronald Adair. He needed time to hide and get back in touch with his homeless network. They provided everything he needed to cloak himself among the desolated people of the streets of London including name and back story and as soon as he was able, he went to the clinic where John worked. _

_He didn't run up to John when he first saw him walk out of the clinic. It was noon, the streets were a little crowded which gave Sherlock the perfect advantage to follow John. John was, of course, oblivious to the red-haired man following him. His attention had him focused to the task at hand which, by Sherlock's observations, was a routine walk as he maneuvered his way through the crowd until he stopped. Sherlock had been so intent on following John that he hadn't realized until he saw the familiar door of 221b that John had stopped at Mrs. Hudson's café. _

_He watched from the street corner as John walked up behind a petite blonde woman who was facing the other way, unaware of John creeping up behind her. He tapped on her shoulder and growled playfully as she gasped and turned around to face him. She laughed and grinned pulling John into a lovingly embrace. Sherlock could see the wide, beaming smile on John. He watched as he kissed the woman with such love and affection that his own heart twisted and constricted at the sight. _

_John looked so happy, it almost pained Sherlock to go forward with his plan but he felt he had no other choice. Sherlock laughed quietly to himself. Jim was right, he mused. He did have a heart after all. _

_Sherlock suddenly froze. His eyes caught something glittering in the afternoon sun. He moves himself closer, still being careful of not being caught and saw the glinting reflection of a small diamond ring along with a wedding band on the woman's left hand before she and John walked inside Mrs. Hudson's café. Sherlock groaned loudly._

_Well, shit. _

_He decided to break into their flat as soon as he saw the rings. _

_No, it wasn't out of jealously. He told himself. He was happy that John wasn't actually alone these three years without Sherlock, but that wasn't why. It was merely a fact-finding mission. He had to know who he was dealing with because this obviously threw a huge, goddamn wrench in his plan... Okay, yes. Maybe he was a little jealous but he was still going forward on his plan. _

_He followed John after work and quickly learned the route to his new home which to Sherlock's surprise was not 221b. He was partly convinced that John would have stayed at 221b out of sentiment of course but he was wrong. John only seem to go as far as to Mrs. Hudson's café still keeping in touch with their old landlady(Not their housekeeper!). It wasn't far from Baker street at least a 20 minute walk._

_The lock on the door clicked over so easily under Sherlock's lock pick._

_At first glance, John's new home was boring. It had everything that other homes had. Television, sofa, bookcase, kitchen which hardly had anything remotely interesting going on. A bedroom and bathroom as well. He scanned the place from top to bottom. It had a woman's touch and the cleanliness of a military man. It all looked so... normal. _

"_My god, how sad." Sherlock muttered to himself. _

_He walked over to the bookcase on the wall next to the TV in the living room. It was bigger than the one at 221b but it hardly contained the amount of books it was design for. The empty spaces, decorated with smiling pictures of John and his wife and ridiculous animal figurines. _

_He looked over the books. His eyes caught the titles of nursing and medical books. Other included some military ones but mostly hardback of mystery and crime novels. _

_Sherlock's mouth twitched in a small smile. Still has the itch. _

_The rest of the books were no doubt chosen by the wife, silly, modern romance novels and such, along with books on classic literature including an old book on Shakespeare's plays which he flipped through out of curiosity. __The pages looked old and well-worn, almost falling out as if it has been read over and over. It was obviously a favorite. Not John's. John wasn't the type to read Shakespeare so it belongs to the wife._

_The sound of a door knob turning rattled him out of his thinking. He quickly placed the book back into its rightful place and hurried out towards the back door of the kitchen, tripping over a step and landing on his foot wrong, spraining his ankle. He disappeared out of sight once again before he had time to hear the couple's conversation._

* * *

John tried to look calm and normal as he approached Mrs. Hudson's café. Although he doubted that he looked anything but. He felt hot and sweaty, his face felt flushed and kept puffing out short breaths. His heart pounded and his brain was going a million miles per second that it was difficult to keep a single line of thought. He probably looked crazed. He felt crazy because what had he gotten himself into, agreeing to go along with Sherlock without taking Mary into account. Without speaking to her first about all this because if he is included into chasing down this Moran character then Mary is trouble in as well. He's put her into danger by Moriarty's lieutenant.

Sebastian Moran.

John vaguely remembered during his time in Afghanistan hearing stories among his unit about a Colonel Moran of the 1st Bangalore Pioneers. He was an educated man who went to Eton and Oxford and was known as one of the best snipers in the world. He doesn't remember the exact details of the stories on Colonel Moran's sniper abilities but he did remembered hearing the awe and admiration in the soldiers voices as they recounted the tales of the Colonel. If this was the same Moran that Sherlock had mention who was not only an incredible marksman sniper but also, Moriarty's number two-man, then he had every reason to be afraid for his life and the life of his wife.

He must have been insane to agree to go along with Sherlock in his plan to get Moran. He was so shocked and numbed by Sherlock's appearance at the clinic that he didn't have time to think what he had agreed to. Things had changed. It wasn't like before when John was alone and had no one to care for like now.

_'You miss it, that's why._' a voice told him that vaguely sounded like Mycroft. He tried to ignore it but he couldn't help the nagging feeling that came with it. His stomach flipped flopped around at the idea. It was true. Not matter how much his life had changed since meeting Sherlock and mourning him, he was completely happy with Mary, of that he was sure of. But he was lying to himself. He had tried to convince himself that he doesn't miss the excitement, the thrill. That he liked his routine and his job but he knew, deep down that something was always missing. And that was Sherlock.

The fear that had grown in the pit of his stomach was not only for his life and Mary's but guilt as well. Guilt because he had done the one thing that would throw a kink into all this before he even thought of it until now.

That he chose his friendship and partnership with Sherlock over Mary.

"John?"

John let out a startled yelp as he came face to face with his wife. He cleared his throat to get rid of the heart sized lump.

"Jesus, you scared me."

"You looked like you were miles away. You almost walked past the café. " Mary's eyes crinkled in confusion. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he nodded dismissively, "Listen, we need to go inside. I have to talk to you." He took his wife's hand and pulled her into the café.

* * *

"And then suddenly he's there. Bloody Sherlock Holmes. Like a magician revealing his magic trick." John took a long drink of his tea.

"Jesus. You've must have been so frightened." said Mary.

"I was." John laughed mirthlessly. "I thought I had fallen asleep in office and dreamed the entire thing."

"Why now? Why did he come back after all this time?"

"He said..." John took a deep breath in. "That he's back because he is looking for a man called Sebastian Moran."

"Who's that?"

"He is Moriarty's second in command. I've told you about Jim Moriarty, haven't I?"

Mary nodded.

"Well, he's the second most dangerous person on the planet. After Moriarty and Sherlock needs... my help."

"Your help?" John could see the fear in Mary's eyes grow . "Help with what?"

"To stop Moran."

"Moran?" Mary's voice shook. "Moran who you say worked for Moriarty, the most dangerous criminal. "

John nodded "Listen I know this sounds-"

"Don't go."

"What?"

"I don't want you to go." Mary said, hysteria raising her voice.

"Mary. I told him that I would."

"I don't care! I don't want you in danger!"

"I won't." John said, firmly.

"You can't promise me that!" said, Mary, angrily. "You don't know what could happen. You survived a war already and his suicide. "

"Well, third time's the charm."

"Please, don't joke John."

"Mary. I will be fine."

"God, how dare he!"

John groaned quietly, hearing the tears in her voice. He knew this would happen.

"How can he ask you to go on with this mission? After everything... and especially since..."

"What?" John asked softly.

Mary held back the tears. "We've only been married for a year."

Her hands shook He reached out to stop them trembling.

"Mary." He said gently. "Look at me."

He waited until she did. He picked her hand and kissed her fingers softly.

"Everything will be fine." he said. "I promise."

"I just.. don't want you to get hurt or..." Mary couldn't finish her sentence. "The stories you told me of the cases you two went on especially about Moriarty. Jesus and now you say that this man, this Colonel Moran, Moriarty's second, you're going after him." Mary paused for a moment, looking at John curiously.

"You want to go." She whispered. "Don't you?"

"I... " John let out a sigh, "I don't know. I'm scared. "

"Then why-"

"I'm scared... for you." John said. Mary sat silent.

"Yes, a part of me wants to go because of some insane thrill I get out of this. I've told you that when I went on cases with Sherlock but the biggest reason I'm doing this is because of you." he stared straight into Mary's eyes.

"I love you." he said so firmly. Tears filled in Mary's eyes.

"I love you so much, I don't want anything to happen to you. This guy is good. From what Sherlock has told me, he won't stop unless we stop him. Now I realize that by going with him I'm putting myself in danger. And you. But that's why I'm doing this. The quicker we can stop this guy, the quicker we can go back to our lives. "

Mary wiped her eyes of her tears, "You're not going to change your mind, are you?"

John shook his head.

Mary gave up. She exhaled loudly, "Just... just please. Come back to me. Safe. "

"I will." He smiled back. "Sherlock..." John trailed off, looking up behind Mary.

"Sherlock what?" Mary asked.

"Don't worry, Mary." Sherlock suddenly spoke out. Mary jumped up from her seat.

"I promise to take good care of your husband."

"How long have you been standing there?" John asked, incredulously.

"Long enough to hear you two nauseatingly declare your love for each other. I had to interfere before you started reciting any poetry."

"Sherlock." John started to admonish.

"So, you're Mary." Sherlock said, looking straight at her. She smiled nervously.

"Yes. Sherlock, this is my wife. Mary Morstan Watson."

Sherlock smiled tightly. "Nice to finally meet you." he held out his hand to shake. Mary gingerly took it.

"You two actually met... before."

"We did?"

"You took one look at me, called me boring and then proceeded to boil a foot in the kitchen."

"Oh, did I?" Sherlock stood quiet for a moment, thinking back to that moment. John and Mary stood by watching awkwardly as Sherlock muttered to himself. He shook his head.

"No, I remembered the foot."

"Yes, well. You wanted to meet."

"Right. Yes, Mary if you don't mind, John and I-"

"She's staying." John wrapped his arm around Mary. " I told her everything." John said, staring straight in Sherlock's eyes as if to say, _'I dare you to try to push her out of here.'_

Sherlock pursed his lips in annoyance, staring right back. He watched as John tighten his grip. He knew he wasn't going to win so all he could do is roll his eyes and groan.

"Fine. But first thing's first. How long do you two have for lunch?"

"About a half an hour."

"Good. John, you might want to bring Mrs. Hudson's a cup of tea soon, upstairs."

"What? Why?" asked John.

"She seemed to have fainted when I broke through her kitchen window."

"Oh, for God's sake, Sherlock!" John suddenly took off, still calling out to Sherlock "She could have had a heart attack! You couldn't knock like a normal person?"

Sherlock stood alone with Mary who still looked nervous. An awkward silence began to form in the café only Mary was the only one feeling it. Sherlock looked perfectly calm. She decided to break the silence.

"John's told me a lot about you."

Sherlock faked a smile. "Did he?"

"All the time. I feel as if I know you already." she laughed nervously. Sherlock faked a laugh as well.

"You're a nurse."

Mary's eyes widen in a pleasant surprise. "Yes. Did you deduce that by looking at me?"

Sherlock dropped his smile and narrowed his eyes at her. "You're hiding something."

"What?" Mary looked perplexed.

"You're hiding something." Sherlock practically hissed. He saw Mary's face paled.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Sherlock smirked. "You have a nervous tic. You've been fiddling around with your wedding ring. Your nails, bitten down showing red skin around the nails. A recent habit, not a life long one. You've been clutching your stomach every time you look at John like you're going to be sick."

Mary stayed silent, tears were slowly building in her eyes.

"You have a secret." he whispered. "A secret that has you feeling so scared. So trapped, you have no idea what to do next." Sherlock smiled.

"You're-"

"I'm pregnant." Mary rushed out, interrupting Sherlock, looking up at his eyes.

Sherlock felt like he was almost knocked off of his feet. Shock was an understatement because his deduction wasn't going in that direction. He was so sure that infidelity was involved.

"I haven't told him. I've planned to tell him today but he started telling me about you. About how you visited him at the clinic and he looked so...happy. I could tell. He was scared but also happy. He started going on and on about it. He sounded upset but I knew that he was relieved and happy. I just thought.. I couldn't tell him. I didn't want him to feel held back. I don't want John to feel like he needs to choose between us. He cares about you very much. Like family and I don't want him to get hurt."

"I-I'm not..." Sherlock stammered.

"Can I ask you something?"

Sherlock nodded stiffly.

"Don't say anything. I want to tell him. This is something that needs to come from me. I want to tell him. Please."

Sherlock stood quiet for a moment, unsure what to do. This is new information. He didn't know what to say except;

"Yes. Of course."

_TBC_

* * *

_Please leave a review. :)_


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